


All of Your Fine Answers

by donotaskforlove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donotaskforlove/pseuds/donotaskforlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis and Zayn are good friends, and that's all they'll ever be, Louis thinks. Great friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All of Your Fine Answers

**Author's Note:**

> I got hit by Zayn&Louis feels totally by accident a few weeks back, and this is the result of it? 
> 
> Totally short, sweet (no sexy-times, soooorrrryyy), and totally not Brit-picked. If any Brit would be so kind as to help me out in that regard for future stuff, please let me know! I'm tired of feeling like I'm constantly messing up, aha. 
> 
> So. Yes! FAKE as ever! And all that jazz.

 

“You are going to get slaughtered, mate,” Louis had told Zayn (once they'd been put in a group), with a sad, despairing frown.

Louis hadn't immediately known what to do with Zayn, the very first time he met him. He always knew when it came people, just how they'd fit together and what Louis would need to do to really blend in (by standing out).

It was much like staring into a mirror and seeing a slightly blurrier reflection of himself; finding a quiet, shy boy that was very aware of everything, but didn't know how hide it, or fake it for the sake of keeping his real, important parts to himself.

Louis is a character around his friends, around strangers (around the fans, all the time), because that is the best way he knows to live with uncertainty. Their entire lives have been constructed into a chaotic, exciting, unpredictable roller coaster of insanity, so Louis builds his walls and personas like it's the easiest thing in the world to do. And even though it angers him, sometimes, the aching need to hide away and shy away, it's just so much easier—and safer—to be brighter and louder.

When Louis is silly and out of control and over-the-top wild, he is just that much more protected. The parts of him which are quiet and thoughtful (brooding and pessimistic), or kind and vulnerable, are safe from scrutiny, from clinical dissection.

He knew that Zayn (from the very beginning) needed to learn how to be crazy in order to remain sane. Louis thought they could even be crazy together (for fun or for survival), while they figured out the best ways of deceiving others and keeping all of their pieces intact.

They could be quiet together, and Louis had never really believed he'd have someone there beside him (who was also just as quiet), when all his walls were down.

*

“Hey, Lou,” Zayn says, staring at his mobile with a small smile. Louis is sprawled out on the hotel bed, messaging one of his sisters. She likes a boy, who is mean to her, and she wants to know what to do about it. Louis can't help but want to send her completely hilarious and nonsensical advice to scare off any future heartbreakers.

“Yeah?” Louis replies, as he sends his sister a message filled with exclamation points and keysmash. Louis can try being a good brother, though. He'll actually have to think about it carefully and maybe even ask Zayn for his own advice. Maybe together they can come up with something passably wise.

Zayn snorts out a laugh and fidgets around on the ugly, beige sofa, his feet hanging over the armrest. “The fans think you're depressed because you've been quieter in interviews and such. They're, like, concerned for your happiness,” Zayn says, smirking at Louis, his eyebrows raised. Louis shoots an empty bag of sweets at Zayn's head and cracks a smile. “Oh?” Louis says, and lets out an amused breath when his sister replies to his text with _YOU ARE NO HELP TOMMO._

“Yeah, like, they think you are in a bad way, for sure,” Zayn adds on, clearly working for some kind of a reaction from out of Louis. Louis rolls his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair. “When I'm manic, I'm happy, is that right?” Louis asks, a little baffled. Obviously, his hard work has paid off throughout the years, but it's a little crazy to think that just because he doesn't act like a hyper child all the time, he's unhappy. Zayn knows that about him. They've learned it together. It's obvious that he's fishing for something else.

Zayn somehow melts off the edge of the couch and then materializes in front of Louis, and then drops down across his legs on the bed with a boneless plop. Louis grumbles halfheartedly and pouts, so Zayn picks up Louis' legs and puts them in his lap, Zayn's eyes concerned and zeroed in on Louis.

“You're good, yeah?” Zayn tries, his palm warm and grounding on Louis' ankle. Zayn traces one of Louis' tattoos with gentle fingers, and Louis kicks his leg out a little, trying to get him to stop. Zayn doesn't. Louis knows this tactic, though, the one Zayn is employing right now. First, it's the low, soothing concern of his voice asking if everything is alright, and then it's body contact (Zayn's hands petting and soothing whichever part of that person's body is in reach), and lastly, it's his giant Bambi eyes. Louis is weak. It's amazing that Zayn has been doing that since they met, and that none of the other lads (obviously including Louis) have developed an immunity against it. Yet. Louis is hopeful, that some day, he will. Harry just covers his eyes with his hands when Zayn does it and tells him to stop.

Louis gives in, eyes helplessly drawn to the tragic, big-eyed look that Zayn is shooting at him, and then fights the immediate urge to slam his head against the headboard. “I hate you,” Louis grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest, and trying to melt into the mattress. His mobile beeps with a new message and Louis scowls and shoves it underneath a pillow. “That should do it,” Zayn cracks, smiling a little and looking as though he wants to reach over and retrieve Louis' mobile.

“It's no one important,” Louis tells him, meaning it's only his sister and not some random stranger bothering Louis, the way Zayn is staring at him. “Yeah?” Zayn says, still looking suspicious, but settling back down again and resuming his petting.

“You can let me know,” Zayn helpfully says, around a yawn, “when you're ready. If I haven't fallen asleep, that is.” He smooshes his face in the comforter that Louis hasn't bothered to straighten out after his nap, and Louis shakes his head at himself, as he reaches down to drag Zayn up the bed to lie down more comfortably on the pillow. “You napped an hour ago,” Louis whines, out of duty more than anything else, since they are all trying to make it a point to have Zayn go get checked out for narcolepsy.

Zayn says, “Shut up,” his voice muffled against Louis' shoulder.

“How does drooling on me help me solve my supposed problems?” Louis mutters into Zayn's hair, knowing that he's basically talking to the dead already. It takes three seconds for Zayn to breathe out, with a great gust of air, “I've got super powers, Louis,” and Louis feels his face scrunching up into a soft smile. He buries his nose in Zayn's hair (smelling strongly of his million dollar coconut shampoo), his hand reaching out (now out of his control) and cupping the back of Zayn's head, and whispers, “You always say that. It must be true.”

He can feel Zayn's lips press against his shoulder before his breathing fully evens out. It strongly makes Louis consider hiking up Mount Kilimanjaro and then promptly throwing himself off from the very top of it.

It would be less painful than this, he imagines.

*

Leading up to their second tour, Louis had gone absolutely, positively mad. In the sense that he had proposed to Eleanour, called it off a few weeks after it, admitted to himself and to his family that he was gay (the lads knew, which wasn't shocking), and shaved all of his hair off.

“Really? Your hair, Louis? You couldn't let that be my thing,” Liam had tutted, his small smile a little wobbly. Louis had cuffed him on the ear.

The public fallout had been spectacular, and the media had experienced endless throes of orgasmic euphoria for weeks. If Louis had been in a good place, he'd have demanded a cut of the profits they'd made.

The lads had stuck by him and smothered him, and while Louis had had felt moments of crippling panic and wanting them to go (to leave him be), it had meant so much to him that they hadn't let him push them away.

Zayn had run his hands surely and critically over Louis' buzzed head, with the clippers left on the bathroom sink. Louis had remained still, his eyes closed, and had let Zayn sweep away bits of hair from Louis' forehead, his cheeks, and nose.

Louis opened up his eyes when Zayn tapped him softly on the nose, and even though it was almost physically painful to look at Zayn (his eyes too bright and his lips pinched together in a frown), Louis hadn't flinched away from the scrutiny; from one of the few people in the world he could stand to be exposed in front of.

Zayn had tipped Louis' chin up at last, and with hurt eyes and a hurt voice, had said, “You're alright, love.”

The kiss had been dry, chaste.

*

In weaker moments, Louis builds an entire world from just that one kiss. It's not the first time they've kissed, but it's the one that Louis really remembers. The other two were when Louis was completely pissed out of his mind and gone.

In reality, Louis knows that Zayn had just felt terrible for Louis and it was his way of showing comfort. It's just that, for the longest time, Louis has been a little bit in love with Zayn (despite trying so, so hard not to be). (That had been one of the more obvious signs, pointing to Louis maybe fancying boys more than he fancied girls.)

But, as Harry had said a year ago (when faced with Louis' long, winding, semi-coherent ramble): “Aren't we all a little bit in love with each other? In a way?” Louis had laughed and pinched Harry's cheek, but fuck. Maybe they were. It was nothing new. “Silly me,” Louis had said, and dragged Harry to the bar for another drink.

*

It becomes a thing, Louis attempting to flirt with people that aren't his band members and best friends. It doesn't go very well. It's tough as fuck. While their management covered up rumors of his homosexuality fairly well during his post-breakdown ordeal, it is still kind of out there. Fan rumors and all sorts of stuff that give Louis a lot more credit in the male-on-male sex department than he actually has.

“I'm going to die a virgin,” he announces to Zayn and Niall, who are spread out on the bed in Zayn's hotel room, watching a Pepsi and Coca Cola documentary on the telly raptly.

“You won't die a virgin,” Niall says, snorting, and then hands over his bag of crisps to Louis. Louis takes Niall's bag of crisps and with a mournful sigh of understanding, takes a crisp. That's like Niall declaring that Louis is definitely going to die a virgin, but being kind about not saying it to his face.

Zayn huffs out a breath and leans over Niall to tug Louis down to the bed by his jumper, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “But you're not a virgin, you arse,” Zayn says, poking Louis in the stomach. Louis leans away from them and swats at Zayn's offending fingers.

Louis drops the bag into Niall's lap and throws his hands up into the air, feeling a little down and a lot dramatic. “ _I mean_ , I am going to die as the straightest gay in the world, because I never got the chance to put that theory into action.” Louis blocks their view of the telly, his hands crossed over his chest, exasperated with them for no reason.

Niall sets his bag of crisps aside and picks up his mobile, his eyebrows drawn together severely in deep concentration. Louis gets nervous and thinks about snatching Niall's mobile away. “May I ask who you're messaging?” Louis asks, deeply worried.

“Trying to get you laid, Lou. I remember Paul mentioning something about this, like—this company? But they sign some sort of confidentiality form or something? Anyway, they specialize in setting people up with fit--”

“No! Oh my god, _no_ ,” Louis yells, trying to grab Niall's mobile from his hands in a desperate dive, but Zayn gets there before he does. Niall shouts when Louis squarely lands on him, and when they both straighten up to glare daggers at each other, Zayn smirks at them and says, “I just told Paul we were messing about. _Chill._ ”

Niall straightens out his jumper and runs a hand over his hair, glaring at Louis. “You're mental, mate. I'm gonna go grab a bite with Liam. Try doing you a favor again,” Niall mutters, picking his bag of crisps from the floor and heading off.

Louis ignores Zayn's gaze and stares at the telly sullenly. The Coca Cola recipe used to contain actual coke, the short, bald man on the screen tells them, gesticulating wildly and with great excitement inside one of the Coca Cola factories. “That's fascinating. Thrilling, even,” Louis grouses, hugging his knees to his chest. And then, because Zayn can't take being ignored for longer than a minute, he throws an arm over Louis' shoulders and side-hugs him.

“So, you think I'm going to die a virgin, too, don't you,” Louis says, just to be contrary, still not looking at Zayn. In another second, Louis will drop the topic and act less obvious. It is a thing he can do. It's just that it's really hard to act in a certain way when he is surrounded by four fit lads throughout most of his day. From daylight to nighttime, he is crushed in the presence of very attractive people. The only thing to be thankful for is that he only has a thing for one of them, and the other three have a place in his heart as simply brothers. It helps, Louis supposes.

Zayn's chin digs into his shoulder and his breath wafts gently across Louis' cheek. “Don't even try it, Zayn,” Louis groans out, knowing what is coming the second he drops his guard.

But that's not what happens.

Zayn kisses his shoulder lightly, and when Louis sighs out tiredly and finally looks at him (feeling oddly embarrassed), the look on Zayn's face is unreadable, shuttered. No Bambi eyes, no pout. Louis tries searching his face for a hint of something, for a hint of anything (a little frantically), but Zayn merely pulls Louis' face—with his fingers guiding Louis by touch—in until their noses bump and Louis lets out a startled breath. His hands go up immediately to clutch at Zayn's forearms, to push him away. This is wrong. Zayn feels bad for him. _Again._

“No, Zayn, you don't—you _can't_ ,” Louis whispers urgently, feeling his heart beating out a spastic, terrified tune. Zayn frowns and his jaw tightens minutely (he almost looks hurt, but that can't be), before he says, “I want to,” and when he closes the distance again (Louis now paralyzed and in shock), Zayn kisses him.

It means everything, and it isn't right. Louis pushes into for a second before he remembers who he is and what this means to him, what it doesn't mean for Zayn. Louis pulls back with a small, sad smile and drops his head down to Zayn's shoulder. Zayn tenses up immediately and seems to stop breathing. Louis runs shaky fingers down Zayn's arm and feels him let out a big breath, his hands coming up to hold Louis in place. This isn't fair to Zayn, just because he's nice, Louis thinks.

“You don't have to do this,” Louis mumbles in Zayn's shoulder, wanting to hide himself somehow, or magically vanish. Louis is about to tell Zayn that he can forget it ever happened and never bring it up again, when he feels Zayn's chest shake in a silent laugh. Louis whips his head up in surprise.

“What is it?” Louis demands him, pushing at Zayn's chest a little and then tugging on his coif when Zayn continues laughing at Louis, now loudly. “I—I just—you think--” Zayn gasps out, struggling to control himself, and Louis says, “Fine. That's great. Call me when you're not a jerk.” Louis bites down on his bottom lip and feels incredibly stupid. Like, it is large quantities of stupidity that he is trying to suddenly deal with. This is the absolute worst.

He should leave. Louis should go while he hasn't somehow embarrassed himself even further. With that it mind, Louis jerks out of Zayn's loose hug to stomp to his own room self-righteously, when Zayn blurts out, with a hiccup, “I've been in love with you since I met you, you arse.”

Louis freezes. Again. Surely he heard wrong. Surely this is some great, big joke that everyone else is playing at and laughing at, and Louis will hopefully laugh at it in the future, too. Not now, though. It's too much, right now.

Expecting to find Zayn grinning and pointing at him in mockery, Louis totally locks it all down as he slowly turns around. When he is actually met with Zayn's small, unsure smile, and his hands fisted on his thighs, it robs his breath. Zayn is terrible at lying, especially to Louis. Zayn's huge, sad eyes draw Louis in.

“Are you lying? Are you messing about?” Louis presses, his voice shot and his heart in his throat. He crosses his arms over his chest when he vaguely notices that his hands are shaking.

Zayn makes an aborted gesture to pull him in, but then simply stands up himself. “I'm not lying. I'm not playing with you. I mean it, Louis,” Zayn says, his hands in his pockets, biting at his bottom lip furiously and his coif now swooping down in a sad cowlick, from where Louis pulled at it earlier.

This moment is nothing like Louis thought it would be. It was never supposed to occur, never supposed to be possible in the realms of reality. It's like swallowing fireworks, the way his insides feel. Louis lets his fingers reach out and tug on Zayn's jumper, trying and failing to hide his manic, growing smile. “For real?” Just one more time, Louis wants to hear it one more time.

Zayn takes another step forward, and whispers against Louis' forehead, “For real, for real.” And hearing the grin, the happiness in Zayn's voice, propels Louis forward and at Zayn. Zayn stumbles back in choked laughter and his eyes are so bright, his smile is so beautiful, Louis can't believe it.

“I suppose I return your feelings,” Louis announces cheerfully, and in the next second he actually feels Zayn's smile morph against his lips in a hungry kiss, as they push and pull at each other, trying to get to skin.

They fall to the bed in a messy tangle of limbs and clothes, and while they don't go all the way that first time (they don't have the stuff, and Zayn is adamant about being truly prepared for Louis' devirginization), they make out until their lips are bruised and they have love bites in all sorts of new and wonderful places.

When they do actually have sex, it is amazing. It is good the first time, great the second time, and a blur of sensations the third time after the first two, since they are both too over-sensitized to do much else but groan out their orgasms like dying animals.

Louis is actually amazed that Zayn doesn't fall asleep in the middle of it, wonder of wonders.

“Shut up and sleep,” Zayn says, around a huge yawn, and throws an arm over Louis' chest. Louis buries his smile in Zayn's crazy hair and goes to sleep.

 

 

END

 


End file.
